


So In Love With You

by ElliHelm



Series: Inevitable [4]
Category: Zoey's Extraordinary Playlist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And Banter. SO MUCH BANTER., Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Is My Sandbox And I Do What I Want, Episode: s01e10 Zoey's Extraordinary Outburst, F/M, Frenemies with Benefits, Height Differences, I Am Big Enough To Admit I Often Reread This Fic For Serotonin, If You Thought "Me Tarzan You Joan" Is As Bad As It Gets... You Were Sorely Mistaken, Leif Donnelly Being A Lovable Idiot, Leif Is Just Hearteyes, Love Confessions, Making Out, Max Is The Voice Of Reason, Shameless Star Wars References, This Fic Has Everything, This Is So Canon Divergent It's Not Funny, Unashamed Roasting Of Glen, Zoey Is Bad With Emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-06-25
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:07:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24907357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliHelm/pseuds/ElliHelm
Summary: The road to "I love you, too," is messy and complicated and selfish.
Relationships: Zoey Clarke/Leif Donnelly
Series: Inevitable [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1785943
Comments: 35
Kudos: 42





	So In Love With You

**Author's Note:**

> Holy moly it's finally done! This was another idea that wouldn't leave my head, only once I started writing it, it became even more of a monster than I anticipated. 
> 
> Hopefully it's coherent. I'm not... entirely happy with how it turned out, but I don't think I could do much better even if I held onto it for another few days, so I'm releasing it out into the wild. Enjoy!
> 
> P.S. I have a few more installments in this series in mind, so this definitely won't be the last you see from me of this little Zeif universe I've created. There's more.

“Oh, no. Is today really the day?”

Zoey can’t quite explain the pit in her stomach as she runs into Max carrying a box that’s threatening to overflow with his office belongings and wearing his _special occasions_ blazer. She’s happy for him. Managing the sixth floor is a _huge_ swing, especially since he hadn’t even _applied_ for the move, but it couldn’t come at a worse time. _Stupid Mr. Michele._

_What’s she supposed to do when her best friend isn’t only a desk away if she needs him?_

“If you're talking about the day where I move up to the sixth floor and no one even looks up from their computers to say goodbye, then yes. Today's the day.”

Weirdly enough, Max doesn’t even look disappointed. Or resigned. He looks… _optimistic_. If there was ever any doubt about this move being a _good_ thing for Max (and there _wasn’t_ — Zoey was just preemptively _lonely_ ), that would’ve erased it. He deserved to be on a floor where _everyone_ appreciated him. _Not just her_.

“Their loss,” she says, turning and following his path around her with a sympathetic tilt to her lips. “Sorry I didn’t get you anything. I thought about bringing you another plant for the new floor, but then I remembered all those jokes about the sixth floor being _DRKPoint…_ ”

“Well, it’s the _almost-thought_ that counts,” he teases, grinning at her, and the unease in her stomach settles just a little bit. _They’ll be fine._

“It’s probably for the best anyway. You wouldn’t have room for it even if I had. Maxwell Richman… a _hoarder_.” Her returning grin as she teases him right back is even wider than his. “I never would’ve guessed it.”

“I’ll have you know that absolutely _everything_ in this box is _essential_ to my work here at SPRQPoint, Zo,” he says, somehow managing a straight face, and _oh_ , it is _on._

“ _Essential_ , huh?” she asks, eyeing the contents thoughtfully.

“Yes, _essential_ ,” he repeats, and she can spot the flicker of suspicion that crosses his face as her skeptical expression turns devious, but it’s too late. _She’s found her in_.

“That _squishy banana_ is _essential?_ ” Her eyebrow is cocked as she looks pointedly at him, and by his expression, she _knows_ she’s won. It’s a little victory that helps to soothe the ache that this is the last time they’ll be on the same floor as coworkers.

“Alright. _You win this time._ ”

 **_Clarke_ ** _1_ **_Richman_ ** _0._ It’s a half-reluctant concession that makes her smile brightly, at least until the reminder that his box full of stuff means he’s _leaving_ turns it wistful.

“I miss you already. It’s gonna be really weird not seeing your face every day.”

“Yeah. _Super weird_ ,” he agrees, and there’s a moment where he mirrors her wistful expression, but it’s gone almost as quickly as it comes, replaced with a knowing smile and an eyebrow waggle. _Oh, no_. “You’ll still be seeing _Leif’s_ face every day, though.”

Zoey’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, well, not _all of us_ got offers to go to the sixth floor Mr. Hotshot.”

“That’s _not_ what I meant.”

“I know what you _meant_.” Resisting the urge to stick her tongue out at him, she swipes the aforementioned _squishy banana_ instead, fiddling with it to avoid looking at Max. “I’ve already told you, that’s _nothing_.”

“ _Nothing_ , huh?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“Yeah. _Nothing_ ,” she repeats.

“So… you’re _not_ still... _canoodling_ together?” Max asks, and he already seems to know what her answer is going to be because he looks unsurprised by her resigned expression. **_Richman_** _1_ ** _Clarke_** _1._ _You win this time, Richman_.

“First of all, no one calls it _canoodling_ , Max.” _Except her. Until this moment. Because he’d ruined it._ “Secondly, _yes_ , we do still, on occasion…” _Ugh, he was going to make her say it, wasn’t he?_ “ _Canoodle_.”

“Well, that sure _sounds_ like _something_.”

“You and your _facts_ , Richman.”

“I’m just saying. If it were really _nothing_ , wouldn’t you have ended it by now?” It’s an _irritatingly_ valid question. One that Zoey isn’t ready to admit she doesn’t have a good answer for.

“It’s _basically_ nothing.” _Basically_. Which is ‘ _Zoey_ ’-speak for _totally not nothing at all_. “It’s light and casual. There’s no romance whatsoever and we’ve kept it out of the office since the first time we… _well_.”

“Well, I never said _anything_ about _romance_ ,” he starts, and that knowing grin is back again, which only makes her want to roll her eyes. “But aren’t you worried that he’s up to something? I mean, it is _Leif_ we’re talking about here.”

“Oh, he’s _definitely_ up to something.” She’s dismissive because it’s obvious. _Of course_ _Leif is up to something_. She’s known that from the beginning. She’d just also made the decision not to _care_. “But the only _perk at work_ he’s getting is _me_ , so… I’ve got it handled.”

“ _Right_ …” he says, and the ( _over_ )dramatic way his face contorts is an unintended consequence of her words, but it also makes the conversation so, _so_ worth it. “So I’m going to go to my _new job_ before I _vomit_. You have fun with this... _whatever this is_ with Leif. And please, _never_ call yourself a ‘ _perk at work_ ’ again.”

Instead of saying anything, she makes a face at Max, throwing the banana at him.

* * *

“Bro. How the hell did _Max_ get a job on the sixth floor?” They’re words Zoey isn’t expecting to hear when she walks around the bullpen later (though it’s no surprise at all that they come from _Tobin_ , whose progress as a person and not a misogynistic dudebro seems to periodically regress in revolt every so often), and for once she lets herself _pause_ in front of his desk, avoiding looking at the standing desk just a bit further away. _Just to know why they’re even discussing his promotion at all when they hadn’t even bothered to say goodbye, of course._ “You think he’s hooking up with Ava Price?”

... _and leave it to Tobin to be the actual worst about an actually good thing. Ugh._

“Why would you say that?” she asks. She doesn’t actually want to know the answer. Knowing Tobin, it’ll be something disgusting and dudebro-ish, but the last thing she’s going to do is just _sit by_ while he trash-talks her best friend.

“Because sleeping with the boss is the fastest way to career advancement. Everyone knows that.” Tobin says it so matter-of-factly — like they’re not also talking about _Max_ in the context of using sex to gain a promotion — and she’d roll her eyes, but an unintentional glimpse that she catches of Leif makes her pause. 

_Oh no. He’s going to get weird about this, isn’t he?_

“I mean _I’d_ sleep with Joan if I— No ‘ _if_ ’. I’d sleep with Joan,” Tobin continues, unaware of the panic that settles on his best friend’s face as he talks.

“I mean, I don't think... sleeping with the boss helps at all.” When Leif first chimes in, his voice is pitched high, though he manages to correct it after a short pause. “You know, 'cause theoretically, the last thing a superior would want is to seem like they're playing favorites.”

Zoey’s grateful that Tobin’s attention as shifted back to Leif because he seems intent on being as _unsubtle_ as _possible_ , maintaining direct eye contact with her the whole time as he rambles about how that actually _isn’t_ the quickest path to career advancement and ignoring her panicked (and much more _subtle_ ) shakes trying to tell him to _stop talking_. It’s equal parts annoying and intriguing, actually. Annoying, of course, because the absolute _last_ thing she needs is her little fling getting out past the very, _very_ limited number of people who already know about it. _They’re not dating each other_. Intriguing too because if there’s one thing she’s learned about Leif, it’s how to spot the little moments of _honesty_. And _this_ — the panicked insistence that career advancement _isn’t_ so easily gained by sleeping with the boss — is one of them.

She isn’t really sure what to do with _that_ particular nugget, so she shoves it away, giving Leif a particularly scathing look as she says, “Leif? _Shut up_ ,” and then starts to walk around the bullpen for an impromptu progress check instead. They’ve already lost _one_ coder today. It won’t hurt to check and make sure that doesn’t set them too far back in their timeline.

“So, team! Where are we? Better be someplace good.”

“I'm optimizing this algorithm for real-time feedback.” Zoey turns around to find Glen pointing at his screen, turning it toward her to help out as she walks over to check.

“Real-time feedback? _Great!_ Let’s just—” She falls silent when she actually takes the time to _look_ at the code that he has because it is… _bad_. Like, _objectively bad_. And she doesn’t want to turn into the _Bitchy Zoey_ she’d become when she’d first started as manager, nitpicking her team until she’d taken over the project herself (as unsustainable as it had been for her to try and take over the scavenger hunt, trying to take over the Chirp, she knows, will be a thousand times _worse_ ), but there’s no way they can show this code to Joan. _Or anyone. Ever. It’s_ that _bad._ “Keep it cooking with this. We want _real-time_ feedback. Not _maybe-you’ll-get-it-three-days-later_ feedback.”

“I've designed a data compression function to speed up the auditory relay.” It’s Sam this time, and she may not know him _well_ , but she knows he’s _competent_ , so the relief when she checks his screen to find code that is _not_ a mess and a half isn’t overwhelming, it’s just… _there_. Unfortunately, it isn’t anywhere close to enough. Not if they’re going to stay on track with their schedule when they’re now a man down.

“Alright. Let's speed up our fingers on the keyboard, and get this done. _Guys!_ ” She’s addressing the whole bullpen now, raising her voice so that it’ll carry without much effort. “I know I’ve said that I know how good you all are at your jobs and that I’m going to trust you more, but that’s still _entirely_ dependent on you actually doing your jobs _well_.”

Zoey almost doesn’t even notice the music that fades in when she slams Sam’s laptop closed, her smile deceptively pleasant as she passes by Tobin’s desk on the way to check somebody else’s progress.

“I mean, what am I supposed to do—?”

_I, I'm so in love with you_

_Oh no._ She recognizes that singing voice. A quick glance over Tobin to the standing desk next to him confirms her fears. It _is_ Leif singing. To her. Leif is singing to her. _Again_. Only instead of looking _irritatingly smug_ or _deviously seductive_ , he looks _utterly lovestruck_. With her. Because... Leif is in love with her?

_Oh, God, Leif is in love with her._

There’s no denying that fact as he sings it to her, as much as she wishes she could. If he’s singing it, he means it. _Those are the rules, right?_ The words ‘ _I’m so in love with you_ ’ are about as unambiguous as it gets. While she could try and deny that he’s singing them to _her_ , the fact that he starts _following_ her with his dancing would make that pretty pointless.

 _Whatever you wanna do_ _  
_ _Is alright with me_

The last time he’d sung to her, she’d been frozen in place. _Reacting_ to him but not _interacting_ with him. Now, she’s free to move, and for some reason that tempts her to test just how linked everything he’s doing is to her. On a whim, she grabs the green bouncy ball from Steve’s office tray, turning it over thoughtfully for a few seconds before she throws it down on the ground as hard as she can in Leif’s direction.

(She’s not sure if she should be _disappointed_ or _impressed_ when he effortlessly catches it. It’s another subtle confirmation that this is about her, but he somehow manages to make it look like a planned piece of choreography and not the random, _impulse_ decision that it really had been.)

_Cause you make me feel so brand new_

This time, when he follows her to the next desk, he props himself on the two screens, and though she attempts to distract herself by looking over the code (it looks alright, whatever it is; the _downside_ to doing this during a heart song is that all she can hear is Leif pouring his heart out to her and not her team actually briefing her on their work), he’s impossible to ignore. No matter what she does to try and stop herself, she keeps glancing up to meet his eyes, stomach twisting ( _with guilt?_ ) at the love she finds there.

 _There really should be laws against looking at people like that._ Or at least, against _Leif_ looking at _her_ like that. Even if it is just a song (and it’s not just a song; it’s _never_ just a song), it’s _distracting_. She didn’t _ask_ for this. She didn’t _ask_ to have a front row seat to him spilling his heart out to her. She didn’t _ask_ to know, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was in love with her. She didn’t _want_ to know. _But she does_. Why? Because her power or the universe or _whatever_ decided that she needed to.

_How stupid was that?_

_And I want to spend my life with you_

He’s anticipating her moves now, turning around before she even starts to walk over to check Tobin’s work (or rather, Tobin’s _lack_ of work, because instead of typing he’s goofing off with a stupid, red plastic mallet that she has to resist the urge to grab from him and throw) with his hand over his heart, still giving her those stupid _looks_. The smitten ones that she can’t look away from, even though they put her stomach in knots. His gaze follows her wherever she goes, tilting at even the slightest move. It’s stupid, but when he looks at her like that, she almost feels like he’s staring _through_ her. Like he’s _aware_ on some level, even though this is a heart song where he _shouldn’t be_.

It’s a stupid thing to hope that he isn’t _actually_ aware (she already knows that he _isn’t_ ), but she does. She hopes that there’s no part of Leif that knows what singing about wanting to spend his life with her does to her. That the stupid flush it causes is something she won’t ever have to explain to him or have to rationalize to anyone but herself.

Maybe it’s worse because she _doesn’t_ have to wonder what this song means. It’s painfully clear what Leif’s intentions are with each lyric. There’s no duplicity behind his words when he sings about being in love with her and wanting to be with her. He hasn’t laughed evilly or given her a look that was filled with anything other than love. Leif just… loves her. What the hell is she supposed to do with a revelation like that?

 _Let me say that since baby_ _  
_ _Since we've been together_ _  
_ _Loving you forever_ _  
_ _Is what I need_

Zoey isn’t sure what compels her to be the one following Leif this time. When he stops dancing _with_ her (like _literally_ dancing with her, at her back, and it’s dorky and sweet and even with his knees bent, she barely comes up past his shoulders — _why is he so tall?_ — but all of that is _so_ not the point) and starts dancing _away_ from her that should be the end of it. _She_ doesn’t need to be the one following him around like a lost puppy. _But she does_. She watches ( _respectfully_ — she isn’t looking anywhere else besides his face) as he slides away from her, shoes squeaking on the floor, and follows him in the opposite path, meeting at the stairwell where he does this over-the-top gesture as he sings down to her.

( _What was it with him and singing_ down _to her, anyways?_ He was tall enough already. He didn’t need to rub it in her face by making himself even _taller_.)

Now… probably _isn’t_ the time to start over-analyzing lyrics that are fairly self-explanatory, but Zoey can’t help it. He sings them to her, and her mind starts racing to make sense of them. Are the words ‘ _since we’ve been together_ ’ meant to be _literal?_ Has he been in love with her since the moment he’d sung ‘ _I Put A Spell On You_ ’ to her? Or at least _falling_ in love with her since then?

If he has, then talk about bringing a whole new meaning to the term ‘ _inevitable_.’

 _Oh, baby, let’s_ _  
_ _Let's stay together_

He takes the two steps down to the main floor in one smooth movement, and this time, they move in sync as she starts down the path back toward her desk. When he slides to the end of the oversized steps, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other she stops too, watching him sing to her with a morbid sense of curiosity.

It isn’t anything she hasn’t seen already given the amount of song he’s already sung to her, but still, she can’t look away. It’s… _mesmerizing_. Should it even _be_ mesmerizing? Zoey isn’t sure, but there’s something in his smile, in his posture, in that stupid little way he quirks his eyebrow at her as he sings that makes her breath catch at the same time it puts her stomach back in knots. 

He shouldn’t get to look this pretty when he’s singing his feelings for her. It made things too confusing.

 _Lovin' you whether, whether_ _  
_ _Times are good or bad, happy or sad_ _  
_ _Come on_

They’re back to him following her now, but while she stops at her desk, Leif doesn’t. He continues dancing around her making the path back to his standing desk as he finishes out the song. Zoey tries to ignore the longing looks that get thrown her way as the music fades out, focusing instead on the last words of his heart song. ‘ _Whether times are good or bad, happy or sad_ ,’ huh?

 _God, this… this was_ bad _. Really, really,_ really _bad._

 **[Jurassic_Clarke]** : Can we meet up for lunch today? That _nothing_ with Leif? It just turned into a _something_.

It’s a message that she sends to Max on a whim, and though she can’t doesn’t expect him to answer it right away (he’s busy being team manager on a new and unfamiliar floor — she _knows_ this), that doesn’t stop her from tapping her finger impatiently on her desk, staring intently at her screen as she waits for a reply. The tell-tale _bing!_ of a new message.

It takes fifteen minutes, but she finally gets it.

 **[Maximus_Prime]** : Sure, Zo. You thinking that Thai place across the street?

 **[Jurassic_Clarke]** : Works for me.

 _Alright_ … so she could at least postpone _that_ freakout for _later_.

* * *

She is _not_ hiding from Leif.

 _Yes_ , she did take her tablet over to the yellow chairs on the other side of the bullpen from Leif to code a few minutes after he’d finished his heart song, and _yes_ , she’s curled into a small ball that makes her practically invisible to anyone looking at just the back of the chair, but that’s not _hiding_. That’s… _peace and quiet_. If she also happens to be listening to a podcast on the Golden State Killer right now, well… that’s nobody’s business but her own. It’s not like she doesn’t have every right to be freaking out. _Leif freaking Donnelly_ is in _love_ with her.

Alright, so maybe she _is_ hiding from Leif.

But what else is she supposed to do now that she knows that their light and casual thing isn’t so light and casual for him? She knows she can't ignore him indefinitely without risking being haunted by Al Green’s ‘ _Let’s Stay Together_.’ (Yes, she’d looked up the song shortly into her self-imposed isolation, unable to resist the temptation of _knowing_. It hadn’t helped either — just sent her into an even bigger spiral as she looked at the lyrics ‘ _Let me be the one you come running to/I'll never be untrue_ ’ and wondered if the whole ‘ _if they sing it they mean it_ ’ rule applied to unsung lyrics too.) The last thing she needs (or _wants_ ) is to be haunted by Leif's love song to her. 

She also knows that she can’t just go back to that state of _not knowing_. It isn’t fair to Leif to pretend like she _doesn’t_ know, even as they continue to… _canoodle_. ( _And_ _damn you, Max, for forever ruining that word for her_. She can’t even _think_ it without wanting to cringe now.) It just also isn’t fair that something that was supposed to be _uncomplicated_ was now truly, thoroughly, _stupidly_ **_complicated_**. 

_She has to end things with him_.

Zoey isn’t quite sure why the sudden realization leaves her feeling regretful, but as it settles in the air, she stares at her tablet mournfully, unaware of the person approaching her hiding spot until he stops right in front of her.

“Hey, so I was thinking—” _Ah, speak (think?) of the devil._ **_Leif_** _._ When he first approaches her, he’s smiling, obviously excited about _something_ until he takes in her somber expression and her position curled up in the chair. “Wait, are you… _hiding_ from me?”

“What? _No_.” _Yes_. “Of course not. I work over here all the time. Jamming on code, listening to tunes.”

‘ _All the time_ ’ is an obvious exaggeration, but she tries to hide it by forcing the gloomy expression away for a tentative but bright smile. Can’t be suspicious if she doesn’t give him a reason to be, right? It isn’t like Leif knows her well enough to know any better.

“True crime podcasts aren’t ‘ _tunes_ ,’” he replies, and there’s no hiding the double take that causes because… _huh_. _She stands corrected._ Maybe he _does_ know her, at least a little bit. But how could he possibly know about—? “...I’ve seen your playlist.”

_Ah._

“ _Right_ ,” she says, dragging the word on her tongue as her shock turns to suspicion. It’s tempting (that seems to be a _constant_ with Leif — **_temptation_** ) to ask just _how_ he’s seen her playlist, but Zoey figures she’s been burned _enough_ by giving into temptation today. “You were saying something _before_ you decided to criticize my listening habits?”

“I wasn’t—” Leif pauses mid-denial, and Zoey watches his face shift as he seems to decide against it with shameless curiosity. _Weird_. He’s never turned down an opportunity to argue with her before, though lately their arguments have been more _flirty_ than _scathing_. “Yeah. So, all of Max's files for the Chirp have been deleted off the Git—”

 _Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait…_ **_deleted_ ** _?!_

“ _Deleted?_ Why would they be _deleted_ , that doesn’t make any—” Zoey trails off after interrupting Leif to look for the files herself — it’s not that she doesn’t _believe_ him (alright, so maybe she doesn’t, but only just a _little_ and only because there’s _no reason_ for Max’s code to have just disappeared in the first place), she just has to see it for herself — and can’t stop the disappointed noise that escapes as she confirms what he’s told her. 

_Crap_ , this is bad. There’s no way they can run the next phase of the DSP without Max’s code, and if they can’t run the next phase, then Joan might actually kill her. _Or worse_.

“Okay, so… we just need to go up to the sixth floor and get it. Just ask Joan for an access card, she—”

“Already gave it to me. Anyways, if you’re not too busy, I thought we'd, like, I don’t know... go _together_.”

 _Together_. Leif tries to act like it’s just a _casual_ offer, but it’s painfully obvious (to _her_ anyway) that it’s anything _but_. Going up to the sixth floor to retrieve code with your boss (who occasionally happens to be _more_ than that) isn’t _casual_. It’s a _date_. If Leif’s already asking her out on poorly disguised dates, then she’s in deeper than she’d ever thought.

“No. _No, no_. Can't… can’t do it together. D-definitely not,” she stutters out, wishing, for a moment, that she’d chosen an isolation pod so that she could shut herself out at will. _If only it could be that easy_. She’d need an excuse, and _quick_. “I’m busy. _Super_ busy, actually. But um… why don’t you just take Tobin? I’m sure he’s dying to see the _forbidden sixth floor_ , right?”

“O… _kay?_ ”

Leif doesn’t look even a little bit convinced by her excuse, but somehow, _miraculously_ , he doesn’t press the situation either. He just nods, a thoughtful expression taking over his face as he backs away.

_Christ, she really was in trouble if she couldn’t figure out how to act normally around him._

* * *

It’s well past quitting hours when Zoey finally comes out of her hiding spot, sliding her headphones down around her neck and flipping the cover back onto her tablet. She hasn’t _intentionally_ stayed late to avoid another confrontation with Leif (that’s a lie — she totally has; she’s just too exhausted to worry about dealing with his _feelings_ right now on top of Max completely betraying her and the news that her dad is too ill to go have what will probably be his last anniversary dinner ever), but as she makes her way across the bullpen to her desk to pack up her things, she’s grateful that he seems to have left already.

Leave it to _her_ luck for that particular bubble to burst in the worst way possible.

“Looks like we're the last ones here.” Leif’s voice startles her from behind, and she whips around to find him shooting her a charming smile that she wishes wasn’t so _disarming_. It isn’t fair, how easy it is for him to not only sneak up on her but get out of the consequences for it with a charismatic smile. “So… I know I said the Jar Jar voice was an ‘ _under no circumstances, ever_ ’ thing—”

 _Oh God, he wasn’t about to bring_ that _up_ now _… was he?_ **_At the office?_ **

“Leif, that was a _joke_ , I’d never want you to—” she starts, interrupting him in an attempt to dissuade him before he did something he couldn’t take back.

“But I’ve been doing some thinking lately and…” When Leif pauses after interrupting her and looks up like he’s trying to remember something, her face falls. _Oh, please don’t say what I think you’re about to say_ , Zoey thinks desperately, eyes wide as she braces herself for the worst. “ _Mesa neb if yousa_.”

It’s _awful_. It’s **terrible**. It’s… 

Okay, in all honesty? It’s not _nearly_ as bad as she’s making it out to be. Like, sure, she can’t really look him in the eye right now without wanting to burst out laughing (he’s got this _endearingly_ hopeful glint in his eyes too, like he’s waiting to be praised for his dedication or something), but the impression, as _ridiculous_ as it is in context, is pretty spot on. He even went through the effort to properly translate it into Gungan, which, for someone who’s repeatedly referred to Jar Jar as an ‘ _abomination_ ,’ really is something.

“Oh… my _God_.” Zoey can’t stop the giggles that fight their way out to the surface now, so she tries to ride them out until they fade, avoiding his gaze lest it make things worse. Somehow, she still can’t believe he actually did that… _and yet she can._ “Leif?”

“Yeah?”

When she finally risks a glance at him his expression has shifted, but not in the way she expects. She’s prepared for disappointment. Embarrassment. Maybe even _anger_ as a worst case scenario. What she gets instead is _pure mischief_.

 _Oh, so it’s like_ that _, is it?_

“ _Please, never do that again._ ”

“Are you sure?” Leif’s smirking at her now, and it _shouldn’t_ be attractive — not with the memory of his best Jar Jar impression still fresh in her mind — but it _is_. “Because that actually was a lot of fun, and I really wouldn’t mind—”

“ _Positive_. **_Never_** ,” she says, interrupting him again. Without even thinking about it, her hands go to his shoulders, like she can drive a point he probably already knows through him with her touch.

“Aye, aye, cap’n,” he replies, cheeky and handsome and _is it just her, or is his face getting closer and closer to her?_

 _Oh, crap._ It’s _not_ just her. His face _is_ getting closer. It’s tempting to let it happen. Kissing Leif is _easy_. So easy, in fact, that Zoey knows that if she isn’t careful, they’ll end up making out at her desk, and that’s… _a mistake_.

“Actually, I need to talk to you,” she says, stopping him from getting any closer with a hand on his chest.

“Uh, yeah, what's up?” he asks, pulling away with a concerned expression. “Is it about why you’ve been acting weird all day?”

 _Oh. So he’d noticed_. That… well, it wasn’t _great_.

“I’ve been acting weird...” Okay, to be fair to him, _that_ wasn’t even _close_ to being a fair question. “- _er_ than usual?”

“Do you... _actually_ want me to answer that?”

_Touché, Donnelly._

“...you know what, _no_. Leif, I…” _Oh, just come out with it. How hard could it be? It’s just like ripping off a band-aid. Besides, isn’t confession supposed to be_ good _for the soul?_ “I know you’re in love with me.”

“ _You—_ ” he starts, face beginning that _slow_ shift into understanding.

“Yeah.” Zoey nods.

“You know that _I’m—_ ” he starts again, getting a little bit further this time, and she can see the disbelieving smile start to break out on his face. This, she knows, will _not_ be pleasant when he’s finally up to speed.

“ _Yeah_.” Zoey nods again, chewing on her bottom lip as she waits for his brain to play catch up.

“ _God_ , how do you— how do you _do_ that?” he asks, and the tense smile that flits across his face is replaced with a steely expression that she doesn’t know what to do with. _How does she do **what** , exactly?_ “How do you always know _exactly_ what's going on in my head?" _Oh. **That**._ "Is it— are you watching my _vlog_ or something? 'Cause that's password protected...”

 _Vlog?_ Leif has a _vlog?_ More importantly than that, he’s been vlogging about his _feelings_ for her? About whatever his plans had first been when they started this… it doesn’t _feel_ right to call it an _affair_ , so this… _liaison?_ About the ambitions she’d called him out on not-so-long ago?

Alright, so vlogging about his _ambitions_ probably made the most sense out of that entire list. When had he even found the _time_ to vlog about being in love with her? Unless he’s been feeling that way for a _while_ …

 _Oh._ **_Whoa_** _. Too heavy, even for_ **_her_** _._

“No, no, Leif. We _agreed_ that this was casual. I mean, you were—” _Just using me at first._ But that was fine because it was casual and Zoey knew what she was getting herself into there. She had no fucking clue now that the tables had turned and down was up and up was down and _Leif Donnelly was in love with her_. _Why did he have to be in love with her?_

 _"I know what I said,_ _Zoey_ ," he starts, almost _frantic_ , and she doesn't know where he's going with this but she's fairly certain that hearing it is only going to hurt them _both_. "But I wasn't—" _What? **Using her**? Then what the hell have they been doing this whole time?_ "I _lied_ , okay? It wasn't _casual_. It's **never** been _casual_."

 _Oh_. _**Jeez**_. So the ' _Since we've been together_ ' bit _had_ been literal. And what's worse is that he actually looks... God, is it _hopeful?_ _What is she supposed to do with that?_ _What is she supposed to do with the revelation that she actually **hadn't** known what she was getting herself into it all?_ Especially since she doesn't even want to _begin_ to examine what the rough edge to his voice does to her. It doesn't make a difference. It doesn't _change_ anything.

 _Leif_ had changed, though. She'd thought, after her power, after his first _heart_ _song_ , that she knew everything she needed to about him. Clearly, she'd been **wrong**. Or maybe she'd never known who he really was in the first place. It didn't really matter. Leif was different (or he wasn't), but she was still the same. The same Zoey Clarke that she’s always been. Still bad with emotions, even with all the progress she’d made because of her power. Still unable to do anything about her dying father, even if she at least could know what was going on in his head to make things easier.

In short, she’s still the same mess that he doesn’t _really_ _know_ and wouldn’t **love** if he did.

“Look, I'm sorry. I'm _really_ sorry, but... this _can't_ happen, and it's over,” she says, fighting to hide the regret in every word. _It’d only make things worse._ Zoey watches as the hope he’d had shatters for as long as she can stand it before she finally flees for the elevator, grabbing both her bag and jacket in a hurry.

She doesn’t turn around again until the elevator doors have closed behind her, too afraid to catch a glimpse of Leif crying (he’d certainly seemed to be on the verge of it when she finally brought herself to leave him) for fear that it’d release the dam holding in her own. 

_She was_ **_not_ ** _going to cry over_ **_Leif_** _._

Not after being the one to break things off herself.

* * *

Calling him over is an impulse decision — one she doesn’t bother to properly think through as she starts pulling up his contact info, hands still shaking from the argument with Howie and her mother. She isn’t sure what compels her to be so vulnerable with him after everything that happened the day before. She doesn’t know why she thinks he’ll even be _open_ to coming over. She just needs _someone_ , and the someone she _wants_ is _him_.

Those three knocks feel like a godsend when she hears them, and as she answers the door to find Leif standing in front of her, perfectly put together as always with a look of open _concern_ that she’s never from him before (at least, not directed at _her_ ), her own face is disturbingly _unreadable_.

“Are you okay? You sounded _really_ upset on the phone. How can I help? I'm— _oh_.”

Zoey cuts Leif off in one swift motion, grabbing hold of his tie and using it to pull him across the threshold and down for a heated kiss that she ~~hopes~~ knows he’ll reciprocate. This is simple. This is _easy_. (Easy for _her_ , anyways. Zoey imagines that being bent over so abruptly and made to follow her through the apartment isn’t _quite_ as easy for him, but he handles it like a damn _champ_ , returning her fervent kisses _eagerly_.) _She needs easy._ She needs the version of them that is _simple_ and _uncomplicated_ because it makes every other _complicated_ thing in her life easier to bear.

She doesn’t know which of them pushes the door shut as they fumble their way back towards her room, hands wandering on each other’s body like they’re a couple of randy teenagers. Only that it shuts because she can hear it, blind to anything that isn’t Leif’s lips on hers, Leif’s hands on her back, or Leif’s clothes underneath her fingertips, _begging_ to be peeled off.

In the long run, Zoey supposes it doesn’t really matter anyway.

When they’re only a couple of steps away from her bed she turns them in one smooth motion, pushing Leif down onto the comforter and climbing into his lap. He’s pliant beneath her hands, offering up no resistance as she takes the lead and starts unbuttoning his cardigan. (His tie could wait just a little bit longer. _She had plans for it._ ) It’s easy for the _both_ of them now in this position, kissing and touching each other without a pesky height difference to get in the way.

“ _Wait_ , uh, what is happening?”

It’s Leif’s voice that breaks her out of the moment, showing the first sign of hesitation for the night. Zoey ignores the warning bells it sets off in the rational part of her brain. She ignores the voice that tells her that she should stop — _that they should talk_ — as she presses him down into the mattress, settling herself comfortably on top of him with a roll of her hips.

“I don’t wanna talk,” she murmurs breathlessly against his lips. “Lord knows you’ve got better things to do with your mouth than just _talk_.”

She kisses him again, and that seems to convince him because he starts responding almost immediately, hands shifting from her hips to her hair, _holding her there_ , and _yes, this is what she needs,_ **_yes_** , only he seems to change his mind a second later ( _had she done something_ **_wrong_** _?_ ) because he starts pushing her away and re-buttoning his cardigan, much to her disappointment.

“Mm-mmm. Mm-mmm,” he says, fighting through the haze and standing his ground, and it’d actually be _sexy_ if he weren’t putting the brakes on this at the same time. “Last time we spoke, you said that this was _over_. That you can’t—”

 _Is that what this is about?_ Zoey rolls her eyes (or at least, she _wants_ to roll her eyes — they’re so heavily lidded that she’s not sure the proper effect really comes off) at him before leaning back in, sliding her hands up his chest and taking in the shiver it elicits from him with a note of _pride_.

“Can’t a girl change her mind?” she asks, and she thinks she has him again when he doesn’t immediately push her away, but her lips on his neck seem to jolt him out from her spell. 

“What, you changed your mind about not feeling the same way _overnight?_ ” He has the nerve to look hopeful as he confronts her about it, and Zoey’s gut twists with the guilt that she’s not about to give him anything _close_ to the answer that he wants. Then it changes, and instead of looking _hopeful_ , Leif just looks _resigned_. “That’s what I thought.”

“I just don’t see why it matters whether I—” _Feel the same way_. Can’t it be enough that she _wants_ him? Can’t it be enough that she’s willing to put aside how absolutely _terrified_ knowing how he feels for her makes her? It isn’t like _he’d_ made the confession. He hadn’t even _intentionally_ dropped that bombshell. She’d _confronted_ him with it. 

“Because it _does_ , Zoey,” Leif says, finally pushing her off of him and scooting toward the other side of the bed. _Apparently not._ It isn’t a comfort that he looks _conflicted_ about his decision, uncharacteristically running a hand through his hair and messing it up. _He_ might be conflicted, but his words are _not_. “It _does_ matter.”

“Well, it _shouldn’t!_ ” She’s yelling now, her own conflicting emotions beginning to fuel the rage that’s been bubbling under the surface for the past few days. So far, she’s lashed out at _everyone_ in her life — _literally,_ ** _everyone_** — _but_ him.

 _That_ , clearly, was about to change.

“Why? Because it’s _inconvenient_ for you?” he asks, and the disappointment and resignation she’d heard in his voice earlier is mixed with anger now. 

_Good. Let him be angry. Resentment is easier to take than_ **_heartache_** _. More familiar._

“Because you don’t even _know_ me!” she corrects, oblivious to the difficult truth she’s just inadvertently revealed to him. _The whole reason she’d even put an end to things between them in the first place. He didn’t know her. He didn’t want to know her. He shouldn’t want to know her._

_Inconvenience_ had nothing to do with the hole his rejection of her had left in her ~~heart~~ ~~gut~~. 

_In her_.

“Maybe I _want_ to!” Leif’s voice rises to match hers, taking the bait she hadn’t even realized she’d thrown. “Maybe I’ve _always_ wanted to!”

 _Always_. Zoey hates the hope that word fills her with, thinking about Leif harboring the same desire to know her even at the height of their competitive streak. Or worse yet, in the even longer period where they’d just been coworkers — neither friendly nor unfriendly. It shouldn’t fill her with _hope_. It shouldn’t fill her with _anything_.

 _She isn’t supposed to care about whether or not Leif actually wants her. She isn’t supposed to care about how long he might have wanted her._

Caring like that is playing with **_fire_**.

“Well, you shouldn’t. And do you wanna know _why?_ ” she asks. She knows what his answer will be after such a blatant challenge. 

_God, she hopes she’s wrong. That he doesn’t want to know._

“By all means! _Enlighten me,_ ” he bites back, reacting just as she’d expected by not backing down from the challenge.

 _She is totally, royally_ **_fucked_** _._

They’re invading each other’s space now, the tension of the argument bringing them back into one another’s orbit. This is dangerous territory, Zoey knows. She’s already revealed one truth — no need to keep spilling any more of her secrets.

“Because if _you_ actually _knew_ me, you wouldn’t think that you’re in **_love_ **with me.”

 _There it is_. The truth of the matter that she’s been trying to keep from him. That she actually _cares_ about how he feels about her. That she’s _terrified_ of not living up to whatever image of her he’s built up in his mind. _She isn’t perfect_. For all her academic accomplishments (of which a perfect SAT score _barely_ scratches the surface), there is a _mountain_ of personal faults that also lay hidden under the surface. Faults that had sent every _other_ boyfriend and girlfriend running in the other direction when they’d discovered them.

“You know, you’re not some _expert_ on me just because you’ve seen a couple of vlogs. You don’t _know_ that—”

“Oh my God, would you _shut up_ about the damn _vlogs?_ ” she snaps, and like that, the moment of vulnerable honesty is _gone_ , irritation bubbling back up to the surface. _When is he going to let that theory go?_ Just because it’s a more logical conclusion for him to come to than ‘ _Zoey is a mind reader_ ’ doesn’t mean it isn’t still _stupid_. _What reason could she possibly have for watching them?_ “ _Nobody_ cares enough to hack into them, Leif. **_Nobody_**.”

“Is _that_ what you’re calling yourself now? How very _Homeric_ of you, Zoey,” Leif says, sarcasm dripping with every word. 

On any other day, _at any other time_ , her annoyance would’ve been tempered by an appreciation for the wit in Leif’s retort. He was clever when he wanted to be (which was often), and the shift in their relationship had given her a new appreciation for the barbs they traded daily. 

This is not any other day. Whatever appreciation she might have, _should have_ , is vastly outweighed by the anger she’s been feeling the last few days.

“Leif?” she starts, her sickly sweet smile betrayed by the venomous tone that she says his name with. “I really couldn’t care _less_ about what you had to say about me in your vlogs.” _A lie._ She cares quite a lot. No amount of anger could quell _that_ curiosity. “In fact, I didn’t even know you _vlogged_ until you mentioned it.” _Not a lie._ But if he wouldn’t believe her anyways, did it even make a difference?

“Then how else could you possibly—?” Leif trails off in his question, and whether it’s an intentional opening left for her or not, Zoey takes it.

“You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you,” she says, shaking her head. For once, it isn’t her insecurities talking as she avoids giving him a proper answer. Leif might be the least open-minded person she knows. Without a way to offer him solid, tangible proof (and how exactly is she meant to do that when it’s all happening in her _head?_ ), he _wouldn’t_ believe her.

It’s too much ammo to give him. He could make her the laughingstock of the office if he wants to with a secret like that, whether he believes her or not. 

“Oh, right. Just like I wouldn’t still _love_ you if I knew the ‘ _real_ ’ you.” By the tone of Leif’s voice, she can tell he isn’t convinced. Even the air quotes (that he doesn’t actually _do_ , thank goodness) are distinctly audible, filled with a challenge of his own that she doesn’t dare accept.

“You are… _one hundred percent_ missing the point...” Zoey starts, trailing off as she does a gesture at him with her hands that fills her with a sense of déjà vu.

“No, actually, I don’t think I am,” he says. With the tension she can see in his jaw and the familiarity of everything else, she half expects him to tack on a ‘ _message received_ ’ to whatever else he plans on saying, but he doesn’t. (It wouldn’t be unwarranted. As much as she’d like to claim otherwise, the point Leif is _trying_ to make is a valid one, even if it’s also as far from the point that _she’d_ been trying to make as it can get.) Instead, there’s another shift to his tone, low and accusatory as he continues. “ _You don’t trust me._ ”

“That’s not—” _True_. Or is it? She’s got no faith that he’ll believe her if she tells him about her power. No faith that, regardless of how receptive he is to the confession, he’ll keep it a secret for her. _Definitely_ no faith that he’ll see her for how she truly is and still like what he sees. _Does she really trust him at all?_

“Isn’t it?” he asks, and the anger is still there in his voice (right alongside resentment and frustration), but the energy that would usually be behind the words (energy that, up until now, _has_ been behind them) has vanished. _They lack fight_. 

What does it mean if he’s lost the desire to even _fight_ with her on this? _That he’s done? With her?_ It feels like a more _permanent_ form of resignation for him to quit trading barbs with her altogether, made all the more real by the actual, _physical_ distance that he puts between them too. 

_Oh, God, he_ is _done with her._

Really, Zoey should probably just _expect_ the panic that settles in at that along with the urge to do something stupid like tell him her secret.

“Alright. _Fine_. You wanna know?” It’s stupid of her to give in so easily. Maybe even more stupid to bother _asking_ if he wants to know when he’s made it perfectly clear that he _does_ , but Zoey asks anyway, still hoping that maybe he’ll back down from the challenge.

As if _Leif_ would ever back down from a _challenge_.

“... _yes_.” Leif answers her like it should be obvious (and it _should_ be — obvious, that is), watching her with an odd look on his face. Like he isn’t _fully_ convinced she’s given in yet.

“You _really_ wanna know?” It’s _absolutely_ the stupidest thing she’s done now, asking him again after he’s given her a very clear, very _unambiguous_ answer. At this point, it isn’t even a _challenge_. She’s just—

“Zoey? _You’re stalling_ ,” he says, and she feels like she must be going crazy because she would _swear_ that there’s a distinct note of fondness to it. _But that’s impossible, isn’t it?_ After everything that’s happened, there’s no way he’s made a change (a _positive_ change — a **_very_** positive change) that quickly. What reason could he possibly even _have_ to just—

Oh wait. _Right_. In love with her. 

**_Duh_**. 

“ _You’re_ stalling,” she retorts, resisting the urge to childishly stick her tongue out at him. “I have a superpower.”

“...a superpower,” he repeats, unconvinced, and _oh, this is exactly what she’s been afraid of_ , but they’re well past the point of her playing this off as some kind of a joke.

Even if she _tried_ , he might not believe her. Or worse, he _would_ believe her, and she’d destroy any good will he might still harbor for her. _If she hasn’t destroyed it already._

“Yeah.” Zoey nods, and _wow_ the déjà vu is coming on strong tonight because they’ve been in this situation before. _Recently_. The only thing missing now is Leif going on about his stupid—

“ _Hacking_ isn’t a superpower.”

_Right on time._

“Oh, for the last time, would you quit it with the damn vlogs?” she asks, more annoyed with Leif for bringing them up again rather than genuinely angry. “I know what’s been going on in your head because you’ve been _singing_ it to me. Since before the promotion.”

“You know what? _Fine_. Don’t tell me. I don’t even know why I bothered—” Leif’s about to go on a tangent, she can feel it, and maybe she deserves it after dropping a bombshell like _this_ at a time like _this_ , but not now. 

“I’m serious! I hear people’s thoughts. They sing them to me. _Constantly_. _That’s_ how I knew you were in love with me. Because you _literally_ serenaded me around the office.”

The memory of it is still so seared onto her brain that if he wanted, she could give him a play-by-play of exactly what he did. Every lyric. Every longing look. Since he doesn't look convinced as she elaborates, she’s tempted to offer it up anyway until another idea hits her. 

Just _one_ song he could dismiss pretty easily, especially as evidence that she’d known his feelings. But _five_ songs? All with very specific contexts and meanings? Even if it isn’t tangible, _visible_ proof, it might still be just what she needs anyway. 

“You also sang about how **_all you do is win_ ** when you were wishing me good luck on the promotion, which, _by the way_ , came with dance moves that I _really_ should report you to HR for.” Or maybe it’d be best _not_ to joke about that since _he_ could _definitely_ report _her_ to HR with all this canoodling (the word was starting to sound _slightly_ better, finally) business they’d been up to. _Mutually assured destruction and all._ He’d get the picture anyways, right? “What else? _Oh_. There was that time where you sang about Charlie pretty much being the second coming of Christ. _Which he isn’t_. He’s just a misogynistic prick who treated Joan like crap, and his games aren’t even that impressive. _A monkey could’ve done better_. Then there was that time after the peer reviews where you _kept singing_ about how **_everybody hurts_**. Since we’re being honest? Again, _I_ wasn’t even the one who dinged you! _It was Joan_.” 

Zoey watches Leif’s reaction carefully, gauging his reception to every word in real time as she rambles them off. How he goes from skeptical (this isn’t the _first_ time she’s mentioned his ‘ _all I do is win_ ’ attitude to him, so that’s _fair_ ) to irritated (they’d have to address his misguided hero worship of Charlie at some other point because _oh_ , she had _thoughts_ ) to _shocked_ (in hindsight, it may have been a mistake to mention that Joan had written that absolutely _scathing_ review that sent him into that moping spiral — if he can’t keep it a secret, then she’s _definitely_ getting fired), and maybe it’s enough to convince him, but maybe it’s _not_. 

Either way she can’t seem to stop herself from going on. There’s still _one_ last heart song he doesn’t know about.

“ _Or_ , and here’s _my_ personal favorite, we could talk about you singing about **_putting a spell on me_ ** that night in the conference room when we first kissed. Would _that_ convince you? Telling you all about how you pretty much _seduced me_ via heart song? Because I can do that,” she says, and now that she’s finished, she actually takes the time to _look_ at Leif outside of just observing him in the moment to see how her rambled explanation was faring.

He’s… _reeling_. At least, as far as she can tell. He hasn’t said anything yet. No snide remark. No calling her crazy. She isn’t sure if she should take it as a _good_ sign that he believes her or be worried that he still _doesn’t_. The silence is _unnerving_.

If he could just say something… _anything_ …

“ _No_ , uh...” Zoey watches as Leif swallows audibly, and she thinks the gears might still be turning over in his head because he doesn’t look anywhere _close_ to being done processing this, but then he shakes his head. “All of that’s _really specific_ and makes me think it _definitely did happen_.”

_Oh._

“You believe me…” Zoey’s realization is breathless, a small smile creeping onto her face as it sinks in. 

Somehow, something in that mess of an explanation had gotten through to _Leif_ of all people. He doesn’t think she’s crazy. (Or maybe he does, but if so, it doesn’t change anything.) He isn’t still insisting that she’s hacked into his vlogs. _He believes her_. And if he could believe in something as insane as hearing people’s thoughts as musical numbers, then maybe—

 _No_. Best not to go there. 

“Was I not _supposed_ to after all of that?” he asks, and as he huffs out a laugh she catches a hint of the first smile she’s seen from him since… 

Well, _since_. 

It’s _nice_. Zoey hadn’t realized it until now, but it’s something she’s missed seeing. _His smile_. It hasn’t even been that long since she last saw it, but it starts to hit her when it’s not a constant just _how often_ he shares those little grins with her.

“Well, _no_ , but…” _She hadn’t really expected it to be that easy_. “You have to admit, it’s pretty—”

“ _Crazy?_ ” he supplies, and the grin his almost-smile has turned into is infectious.

“ _More than you know_ ,” she says, laughing at the unintentional reminder he gives her of her power glitching.

 _That is an explanation for another day_. 

“So this has been going on since before the promotion?” he asks.

“Right around then, yeah,” she agrees, nodding.

“And I’m _not_ the only person you’ve heard sing?” Leif’s expression turns into something unreadable again, like he’s starting to put the pieces together of a very complex puzzle. It sparks her curiosity as she watches the shift happen, itching to know where he’s going with this, but for once she doesn’t press the issue. 

“ _Definitely not_ ,” she admits. It’s tempting to go into another word dump and ramble about all of the other people she’s heard sing, all of the other heart songs she’s been witness to, but at the same time, it feels _wrong_. 

It isn’t like Leif _needs_ to know specifics of other people’s songs. If he believes her then he believes her.

“But your ‘ _personal favorite_ ’ was me… _seducing you?_ ” he asks, and if it was unclear where he’d been going with this _before_ , it definitely isn’t _now_. _He is shameless_. Hell, he’s not even just _shameless_ , he’s—

“Oh my God, you’re _insufferable_ ,” she groans, throwing her face into her hands to hide the blush creeping onto her cheeks. _Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid._ Really, she should’ve known there was no getting away with calling it that without Leif noticing it. If she’d thought… But that’s the point, isn’t it? She hadn’t thought. She’d just been talking. _And talking and talking and talking_ . The truth always did have a way of coming out in the most inconvenient of ways like that. _Whether she wanted it to or not_ . “‘ _Personal favorite_ ’ out of what _you’ve_ sung to me. _Of all the things to fixate on..._ ”

She isn’t even _surprised_ that he’s fixating on it either. She knows better than to tempt Leif’s ego like that.

“You did say you’d tell me all about it,” Leif oh-so- _un_ helpfully decides to point out with a shit-eating grin plastered in place. The smugness shouldn’t still be so attractive on him. It _isn’t_ attractive on him. It doesn’t make her heart race or put her stomach back in knots or cause the flush on her cheeks to deepen.

(She’s fooling herself. _It absolutely does all of those things even though it shouldn’t_. But she’s not rambling anymore, _thank goodness_ , so the odds of her actually revealing that to him are nonexistent.)

“Did I? I changed my mind,” she says, slowly dragging her hands down her face and revealing still-pink cheeks. Her blush wasn’t going away anytime soon, but she couldn’t hide from him forever.

 _Maybe he’d take pity on her._

“...yeah, you’ve been doing that a lot, lately.”

 _Or himself_.

The pleasant bubble they’ve been in since her confession — smiling and bantering with each other like they normally would — is burst in an instant by her words, turned melancholy by a harsh reminder of why he’d been upset with her in the first place.

“Leif—” Zoey doesn’t know _what_ she plans on saying to him to try and make it right, but she knows she needs to say _something_ , and _fast_. Before the situation becomes impossible to salvage.

“No, you don’t have to explain.” Leif interrupts her with the same look of resignation he’d worn earlier, and it’s somehow _more_ heartbreaking to see on him now that she’s had a taste of what it’s like to have everything (or, _almost_ everything) out in the open between them. “ _I get it_.”

“No, Leif, you _don’t_ get it. I—” She stops herself this time, still unsure of what to say to him. ‘ _I’m sorry_ ’? ‘ _I’m scared_ ’? ‘ _I really do like you_ ’? How honest can she be with him (and herself)? How honest would he _let_ her be?

“ _Zoey…_ ” Leif fills the silence with a plea of her name, rough and pained, and it lingers for a moment like an unfinished thought as she watches the internal debate play out on his face. “ ** _Don’t_**.”

“ ** _No_**.” Zoey shakes her head. When she pauses this time it’s only for a split-second — long enough to make the decision to just start talking without giving herself time to second-guess it. If ever a time warranted a bit _too_ much honesty, _this was it_. “Look, I don’t know _how_ I feel. You didn’t just sing about being in love with me. You sang about being in it for the long haul. _Happy, sad, good, bad_. That’s...”

 _Too much._ **_Way_ ** _too much to throw at someone you’re just having casual sex with._

“How _I_ feel. And it’s not something I was even ready to share with you yet,” he says. It feels like another accusation being thrown her way (and maybe it is one — she _had_ been the one to confront him about it when the most he’d done was try to invite her on a poorly disguised date), like she has any _control_ over whether she hears a song from someone or not.

“Well, I don’t get to just _ignore_ what I find out about through my power, Leif!” 

It doesn’t matter how much she wishes she _could_. It doesn’t matter how much she wishes it was as _easy_ as pretending she’d never heard something in the first place. It wouldn’t ever be that simple.

“So you dump me and then ambush me at your apartment the next day because you’re… what? _Lonely?_ Like _that’s_ better?” he asks, throwing her actions back in her face with the worst possible interpretation for them, and what hurts the most about it is…

 _He isn’t entirely wrong_.

Granted, it isn’t just as simple as her being _lonely_. _Loneliness_ isn’t the _only_ thing that had driven her to call Leif over to her apartment (though it had certainly been a factor). But of all the people in her life that she could call, he was the _one_ person whose bridge she’d burnt the _least_ in the last couple of days.

 _How messed up was that?_ That the _one_ person she could turn to for comfort was also the person she’d _broken up with_ less than twenty-four hours ago? She couldn’t even blame him for being angry because she’d taken advantage of him in probably the worst way possible.

“That isn’t… I wasn’t…” Zoey flounders for an excuse. For some way — _any_ way — to explain herself to Leif that doesn’t leave her feeling quite so vulnerable and _raw_ as the whole truth does, but she can’t find one.

“Then _what_ , Zoey? You can’t blame everything on your power, so what is it?”

“ _Leif_...” It’s her turn to plead with him. To put every unsaid emotion into his name and hope that he’ll _get it_ , somehow, without her having to bare the ugly parts of herself to him.

“If you can trust me with _that_ , then why can’t you trust me with this?” he asks, and he’s right. _Oh, she hates it when he’s right_. He always gets so smug about it, like he’s one step away from an ‘ _I told you so_.’ Only...

 _He isn’t smug now_. When she looks up at him again, there’s nothing but understanding and concern in his eyes, and whether he intends it or not, it helps her to find the resolve to give him the explanation he deserves.

“Okay. _Okay_. Uh…” Zoey pauses to steel herself, swallowing her nerves. “Everything in my life is spiraling out of control. I’m fighting with Max. I screamed at my mom and my dad’s sweet caregiver earlier tonight. I’ve been screaming at a lot of people lately, actually. I’m just so _angry_ all of the time, now, and I wanted a break from it.”

The relief that finally putting what she’s been feeling into words brings is tempered by guilt from admitting that she’d used Leif. As much as she doesn’t want to — as much as she _fears_ what she’ll find — she meets his gaze, stomach in knots as she waits for the inevitable shift from concern to disgust. When it doesn’t come immediately (she doesn’t dare hope that it won’t come at all), she takes another breath, preparing herself for the apology he deserves.

“Look, Leif, I’m _sorry_. I _know_ I haven’t been fair to you. You are… a _better_ man than I give you credit for. And you deserve better,” she says, resisting the urge to reach out to him in case it wouldn’t be well received.

She keeps waiting for the change. Waiting for the moment that he realizes she’s more trouble than she’s worth. Waiting for him to pull away and _leave_ her. After everything that’s happened? _He probably should_. 

But he never does. Instead, she feels his arms wrap around her, pulling her in for a crushing hug that she returns without a moment’s hesitation.

“I’m not in love with _better_ , Zoey. I’m in love with _you_.”

_And just like that, the dam she’s been using to keep a hold on her emotions breaks._

As far as declarations of love go, this might be the least terrifying of them all, which is strange because it’s probably the most _intimate_ one he’s given. They’re still hugging. Leif’s voice is low and soothing in her ear. Perhaps most importantly (and most intimate... _ly?_ ), though, is that this confession comes with total awareness. Awareness that he’s doing it. Awareness that she’s a _mess_.

 _Awareness that she might not even feel the same way about him_. (She does. She hasn’t admitted it to herself until now, _but she does_.)

Zoey lets herself just enjoy it for a minute. She smiles against his chest and holds him tighter, savoring the closeness. And when she finally brings herself to pull away, it isn’t for long. She grabs his tie again, pulling him down for another kiss that he reciprocates enthusiastically.

It’s even easier to push Leif back onto the bed this time since they aren’t blindly trying to navigate their way through her apartment. She climbs back into his lap in one smooth motion, capturing his lips in a much gentler kiss.

“ _Wait_ ,” he mumbles against her lips, and he doesn’t even have to try to pull away from her because she does it for him, looking at him with wide eyes. “This isn’t just casual, right? This means something?”

_This means something?_

Zoey doesn’t even need to think about it to know that the answer is _yes_ , but she hesitates anyway, using the time to take in everything about how he looks right now — his messy hair and kiss swollen lips, the hopeful look in his eyes, even the scar in his left eyebrow, which she thumbs delicately, _absentmindedly_ , **fondly**.

“It means _everything_ ,” she replies, finally, and once she leans in again, neither of them try to stop the other for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> Come find me on [Tumblr!](https://leifdonnellys.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Comments about the fic give me a much needed boost of serotonin. As do kudos. ♥


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